A WOUNDED WARRIOR
Phan Vũ 

CHAPTER ONE

Under the shade of a big pine, in Mile Square Park, Fountain Valley City, California, a Vietnamese family was enjoying a barbecued beef and chicken. Hương-Giang, thirty-ish, pretty, and slender in her blue jeans with a green top was serving food to her children—a twelve-year old Ted and a ten-year old Marjorie. In spite of a vague sadness in her look, she was obviously pleased to see her children enjoy tasty chicken thighs. She sometimes glanced at some big parties sitting on the green grass, talking to each other and laughing. Like her family, they celebrated the Father’s Day. Standing beside a barbecue, she grilled, turning over and over, above red-hot coals some chicken thighs and breasts, hamburgers, and corn-on-the cobs, that were sizzling and browning. The burning-meat smell pervaded the park air, making her mouth water. She was content with her children’s growth and studies. Some black crows landed, picking up leftover food on the green, and then soared up, flying up and down, in parallel with the varied levels of the park.
“Mom, I wish Dad was here with Marjorie and me?” suddenly said Ted. A sharp dagger piercing her heart, numbed with acute grief…
“Ted, what… have you said?” she asked after regaining her calm.
“Ted’s said he wishes Dad were here, relishing barbecue with me and him,” Marjorie resounded.
“So do I.”
“Dad’s name’s An-Đông, isn’t it?” asked Marjorie.
“Yes, it is, my dear.”
“We haven’t known what had happened to Dad so far,” Ted went on.
“Well, I don’t know how to begin. I put it this way: before the fall of Saigon, a soldier survivor from your dad’s platoon came back to Saigon. He told me that a mortar had exploded near the commanding squad. There were many dead, including your father. Later an evacuation chopper flew the dead and the wounded to Đà nẵng hospital.”
“Why didn’t you fly to Đà nẵng, searching for him?”
“I tried to book a flight, but Đà Nẵng City had been lost to Vietcong. Town folks fled in masses to Vũng Tàu Beach.” The children stopped eating, looking down, faces gloomy.
“Don’t spoil our picnic. Calm down your sorrow, please. I love you with double love—mine and your Daddy’s. Please, please, don’t make me sad, discouraged, and hopeless.”
“Yeah. We promise. We move forward!”
“Good for you, my dears.” Obeying their mother without a word, the boy served her a brown hot hamburger and yellow corncobs while the girl, an icy-cold can of coke.
“Thanks, Ted and Marjorie.” They finished the meal and their can of coke. The mother extinguished the coal as her children cleaned up the place. She then drove the car while her kids were nodding off in the back seat.
That night Hương-Giang could not get to sleep after two-hour attempt. Persistently came back to her mind the remembrance of the following days and nights after she had been informed of her husband’s death. It was still vivid although seven years had elapsed. It had been a terrible nightmare—her future, her 5-year old boy and 3-year old girl to rear, and their future, without income in a chaotic wartime situation of Saigon. God blessed her and her children: her sister-in-law came and told her that her brother, a chopper pilot was waiting for her to fly with him to the 7th American Fleet off the Vietnam shore.
Years later, her family resided in Little Saigon, Westminster City, Orange County, California. She and two children had been living in a room in a rented three-bedroom house with her brother’s family for three years. Her family moved out when she found a job as an accountant in a small electronic company. Her work, her duty of tutoring her children as their father, and her tiredness made her forget that remote nightmare of her husband’s death.
That night she rolled over and over in her comfortable bed due to her children’s talk. Her late husband’s pictures distinctly appeared, overshadowing the images of a new man—the handsome engineer working in the same company, but in a different department. Her deceased man faded out as the gentleman faded in. She remembered the first meeting him: a group of Vietnamese employees, male as well as female, usually had lunch in a restaurant, each one choosing his/her favorite dish. One day, while Hương-Giang was savoring the flavor of each roasted chicken mouthful with rice, a man set his plate of a roasted chicken with bread next to her. She looked up and moved up to let him comfortably sit down: what a nice guy, she thought.
“Thank you, Hương-Giang,” he said. She was startled—how come he knew my name? But she kept silent.
“My name’s Tom. I work in the engineering department,” he went on.
“Needless to tell you my name. You knew it,” she forced a smile.
“My friends talked about the new-comer in your department.” He continued, “I want to make friend with you to get some news from Vietnam.”
“There’s nothing new about Vietnam because I left it in 1975. I’ve been here more than seven years.”
“If so, let’s have a nice talk, is it okay?”
“What about?”
“Well, about the roasted chicken… You and I prefer it to other dishes. The majority of lunchers have ordered it.”
“The roasted chicken is this restaurant specialty,” she put in with a smile.
“Which dish would you like for dinner?” he asked.
“I’d like sour catfish soup with my children.”
“How many children do you have?”
“A 12-year old boy and a 10-year old girl.” After some time of hesitation, she asked, “Are you married?”
“No woman likes me.”
“Your joke’s funny, isn’t it?”
“No kidding! I’m single.”
“Would you like me to introduce you a friend of mine?”
“Sure, I would.”
“A bachelorette or a single mom?” she asked.
“A single mom,” he replied.
“What range of age?”
“The same age as yours.” Her cheeks reddened. She left: she knew who he wanted to talk about. He met her twice more in the restaurant. Their conversations got friendlier and more open-hearted.

Hương-Giang was nervous, pondering if she should or shouldn’t go to the date: the first kiss with her husband at Mũi Né Beach, and then the first making love to her husband with sweet whispers at her ears in the wedding night: vivid images and lovely pictures rushing to her mind hindered her go to the place. She then said, “You’re gone, Dear An-Đông. I’ve been alone for years. I need companion.” Without thinking, something pushing her to stand up, she did the make-up and put on her best clothes. A mysterious voice told her, “Tom’s waiting for you.” She locked the door, her children at her brother’s house. She started the car and off she was. The rosy sunlight and the cool wind were soothing her soul. She felt a lot more relaxed, finding the address of the French Restaurant Tom had left at her table yesterday.
As soon as Hương-Giang parked her car, Tom made for the door and opened it for her. Very joyful, he said, “I thought you wouldn’t come to my birthday party.”
“Well, it’s been very long I haven’t tasted Champagne,” she replied with a smile. “This time I would like to have Champagne with cake.”
“Sure, you’d have. However what matters now is the man who offers it, right?”
“It could be,” She smiled. He pulled out the chair and let her sit down.
“Thanks.” She looked at his radiant face. She then glanced at some pictures on the walls: some Châteaux among green vineyards, St. Tropez Beach…
“We have cold foods for hors d’oeuvre, a steak with a sauté of scallop and spinach that go with red wine for main course, for dessert, a birthday cake with Champagne, and finally coffee. What do you think?” he asked.
“Don’t get drunk. If not, we’d get trouble with police.”
“Don’t worry. Just a small glass of wine to admire your rosy cheeks,” he teased, but she reddened.
“Happy birthday to you!” She clinked her glass against his.
“Thank you very much,” he responded. “Do you like Roquefort, the blue cheese?”
“Yes, I like it.”
“When did you start drinking wine or beer?” he asked.
“At a party when I graduated from Bùi Thị Xuân High School, Dalat.”
“You were born in Dalat, as well?”
“Yes, Dalat is my home town, a city of beautiful falls and romantic lakes,” she commented.
“I’ve been there many times, visiting Lake Whispers, Lake Hồ Xuân Hương, Love Valley... Please have your steak... Is it tender?”
“Yes, it is tender and tasty.”
“And then you went to Dalat University?”
“No, I got married and I moved down to Saigon. I had a job as a clerk in a government office.”
“Please have the sauté,” he invited. “I was a policeman before 1975; but I did not report to any concentration center after the fall of Saigon because I was afraid of Communist jails.”
“Yes, Communist jails were horrible,” she chimed in. “How did you flee Vietnam?”
“I went down to Rạch Gía Town and I escaped with a friend of mine in a fishing boat.” He went on, “Please cut the cake and we enjoy it with Champagne.”
“The cake is tasty with sparkling Champagne, isn’t it?
“I’m glad you like it,” he responded. “How do you like your coffee?
“With milk and ice.”
The dinner was over. Tom opened her car door and she got in, “Thank you, Hương-Giang for being with me today.”
“Thank you for the delicious meal. This restaurant reminded me of something from Vietnam.”

            She then had several sweet evening dates afterward. Finally she let him come to her apartment to make friend with her children. Tom cooked dinner for her children and helped them with their homework. His presence in the house seemed almost familiar to them. On the Mother’s Day, he brought them a cake capped with red roses on the white cream layer, and letters “Happy Mummy Hương-Giang’s Day.”
“Thank you, Uncle Tom for the gift to our mom,” said Ted and Marjorie, extremely touched by his present. After dinner, the two children got into their room to review their lessons.
“It’s late. I’m going home.” Then eagerly Tom asked, “Hương-Giang, I love you very much. Marry me, please,” he proposed, holding fast her hands. She was not surprised because she had predicted what would happen any day. However she was very moved by those soft and sincere words. She had wanted to sound her soul to see if she was surely ready for another marriage. She pondered many nights if he was truly willing to marry a widow with two children while he was a bachelor.
“Thank you for your marriage proposal,” with a smile she answered, looking into his eyes, “but let me think about it. I’d like my children to be ready as well when I give you the answer.”
“Okay. I can wait.”

On the following July 4th , Tom brought a bottle of red wine and two pounds of rib-eye steak to Hương-Giang’s house at 10:00 a.m. He had wanted to prepare a steak for her family. But the house was quiet and locked. He intended to come back home when Hương-Giang’s car drove into her parking space. He was stunned by her exquisite beauty—her tight pink skirt showing her round ripe buttocks, her muscular white legs, her light green shirt with protruding breasts, and her shining black hair flying around her shoulders. She stopped, transfixed at the sight of him. She was really impelled by his appearance—aged about 35, with a medium build, a lovely smiling face, and collar-length mousy hair, clad in dark grey pants and a light blue golf polo shirt.
Asking with great joy, “Where are Ted and Marjorie?” he advanced to grab her hand.
“They went to the Big Bear Mountain Resort with their uncle for three-day vacation,” she responded. “How long have you been waiting for me?”
“Not too long.”
“Come on in. What do you bring to me?”
“Some steak, hot baguettes, and red wine to treat you, Marjorie, and Ted.”
“Thank you, Tom. Take easy with music and movies. Let me cook it.”
“No. Relax. I prepare it to treat you.”
“Really?”
“I was a good cook in the refugee camp in Indonesia. I made omelet, chicken curry stew, steak…”
“Okay. Do not burn my steak, please!”
“Don’t worry. You’ll see,” he laughed.
He thinned two pieces of beef into four on a wooden chopping board. He then flattened four cloves of garlic.
“Where’s butter, Hương-Giang?”
“In the fridge,” she replied, watching him frying. But sometimes she glanced at his charming face. He put butter in the hot saucepan. When melted, it sizzled. He dropped garlic into the melted butter. Garlic got brown. He laid the steak in the hot butter. Its good smell spread the whole apartment. Hương-Giang felt very hungry. She set on the table two cocktail glasses, salt, black pepper, and two large dishes, forks, knives and napkins. He turned over the steak.
“Hương-Giang, how do you like your steak?”
“Medium rare.”
“Okay, you’ve got it.”
He took the bottle of wine out of the fridge, opened it and poured wine into the glasses.
“Please, Hương-Giang. To your health.”
“Cheers, to your health,” she replied. “The steak’s very tender.”
“I’m pleased you like it.” They ate, drank, smiled and looked at each other. They emptied the bottle of wine. Tom turned the DVD player on: soft romantic music slightly resounding, “In my eyes you’re my angel, my love, my woman…You’re all what I need…” Hands in hands, very close, eyes in eyes, body moving with body, they danced, following the rhythm…Sweet whispers into her ears, “I love you, Hương-Giang…We’ll live together with the rotation of the moon, the sun and the stars…I’ll be with you and your children in happiness, in suffering and in love…” She did not answer. She did not really know how to answer. She was dreaming, her head bending on his shoulder. He then searched for her lips…They passed two days and two nights in love.
She felt happiness coming back to her. Loneliness burden yielded to calmness, peace and serenity: it was like the love sampan smoothly floating on the Saigon River in the evening fresh breeze. She wished she would see a rosy and comfortable future for her and for her children. She was preparing fried rice for breakfast in the kitchen; Tom against her back embraced her waist, kissing her nape: familiar feelings coming back to her from afar, from the forgotten oblivion, from thousand miles half round the earth…

“Ted and Marjorie, would you like to dine out tonight?” their mom asked.
“Yes, we would; but where, Mom?”
“You decide!”
“I’d like phở,” said Marjorie.
“Yes, phở, Mum,” added Ted.
“Can I take the order?” said a waitress.
“Rare beef and tendon phở for me,” said Hương-Giang.
“Well done beef and tendon for me,” ordered Ted.
“Well done beef and meat balls,” said Marjorie.
“Your drink, please?”
“Two sodas with lemon and a hot tea,” said Hương-Giang. She was very satisfied with them: studying hard, good behavior, loving book reading, their faces denoting vague similarity to their father’s silhouette. She sighed, anxious about what she was going to ask them.
“Ted and Marjorie, tell me what you think about Uncle Tom?” she sounded them out.
“Yeah. He’s a good man,” replied Marjorie. “He’s helped me a lot recently with my homework.”
“What do you want to know about him, Mom?” pondered Ted.
“Well, something like: do you like him or would you like him to help you with your studies?”
“Yes, I’d like him to come over our house to help me with the studies…Sometimes I think I need companion.”
Hương-Giang thought the first step in the relationship between her children and Tom seemed satisfactory. The second step would be more difficult: how her children would accept Tom moving into the house. It needed more time. However she could not take time, she had to decide…One morning Hương-Giang felt tired and she phoned Tom, “Can you come over my house and take my children to school.” Ten minutes later, Tom arrived. She said to him, “I called sick today. I stay home for a rest.”
“Okay, I’m going to take Ted and Marjorie to school.”
At noon, Tom was worried about Hương-Giang’s health. He drove to her house and found that she was still tired. He convinced her to see a doctor.
“Congratulations. You’ve got good news. She’s pregnant,” said the doctor.
Stepping out of the office, he embraced Hương-Giang, saying, “We have a baby.” The news surprised her. She thought it was an accident, but a happy one.
“I’m happy, Hương-Giang. From now on, I take good care of you,” Tom seriously promised.
“Thank you, Tom,” lovingly looking at him. She pondered, I got married again, how my future would be, and my children’s. I just ended my boring and tiring single mother status.
“What are you thinking about?” he glanced at her and asked.
“Nothing. A change of life course. That’s all.”
“Trust me. It’ll surely be okay.”

“How do you feel, Mom?” Ted asked, Marjorie and Ted kissing her cheeks when they came home from school.
“I feel fine with your kisses, thank you, dear.”
“We love you, Mom.” Ted went on, “What did the doctor say?”
“Did you take any medicine?” asked her daughter.
“No. I did not. The doctor told me to rest.”
“Who took you to the doctor’s office?” Ted asked.
“Uncle Tom did. By the way, Marjorie and Ted, I need a helper…What do you think if Uncle Tom lives with us?”
“We don’t have an extra room,” said Ted.
“No problem,” her daughter put in, “he can sleep on the sofa.” Hương-Giang laughed, “I’m going to ask him?”
One Sunday evening while Hương-Giang was preparing dinner, her brother dropped her children at her house. They entered the house, quietly stealing into their room. Surprised, Hương-Giang called, “What’s the matter with you guys?” No answer. She left the kitchen for their room. “Why didn’t you answer me, Ted and Marjorie? What’s on your mind? Please tell me.”
Ted kept silent, but Marjorie blurted out, “Aunt told us that you’re going to marry Uncle Tom.”
“How about our father?” Ted chimed in.
“My dear children, do you love me?” she began to sob, “I told you I need someone to help me, to care about me and with me take care of you.” After a silent moment, they softly said, “Sorry, Mom, we love you very much.”
“Children, Uncle Tom loves both of you and he’s ready to help you with everything.” She then continued, “Your father's gone for years, but I still have two images of him: That’s you two. I really want both of you to become a good man and a nice girl with high education.”
“We are deeply sorry, Mom. We love you. We support you,” the children affirmed.
“Okay, come out and have dinner with me.” They had dinner, but their countenance remained pensive. She felt a little bit restless. She thought she could not expect more than that: a change of heart on children’s mind would slowly subside, the love to their father had infiltrated their heart for more than a decade; however their affection for Tom was not deep enough. She let out a long sigh.
Every morning, Tom came early to Hương-Giang’s house to pick up her to work and her children to school. In the afternoon, he took them back home. Because of Hương-Giang’s tiredness, Tom got dinner ready and after the meal, he helped her children with their homework. He then returned to his house.

            “Come on! Get in the car, Ted. I love you very much. We’re gonna see Uncle Tom’s house,” implored Hương-Giang. She knew he was thinking of his father. He did not want anyone else to take his father’s place in his mind. He felt sad, losing something dear to him. Unlike her brother, Marjorie felt interested in visiting Tom’s house. While she was tenderly combing her mom’s long, silken hair, she thought of her mom. How lonely and helpless she must feel in a new land with her husband gone forever. How could she, a mere girl, help her mother? A photo of her Dad, as a reminder was on her study desk; however she liked Uncle Tom helping her with her studies. She tried to get A on her papers. That would please her mom. She really wanted it.
Uncle Tom opened the door of his house and walked Ted and Marjorie to a cozy room with orchid-picture-ornate walls and a computer on a desk. Without invitation, Ted sat down and turned the computer on, swinging instantly into a good mood. Standing behind her son, Hương-Giang felt encouraged and comforted. Tom then took Marjorie to another room. She exclaimed “Wow” at the view of a handsome, one-foot-tall Barbie that she had wished to have one. When her children were busy with their favorite items, Tom took Hương-Giang to their private master bedroom that amazed her very much: a king-size bed with a mirror-commode, full of beauty items.
“A reward?” a soft whisper. Then silence…
Tom put on the table a dish of gỏi gà, a mixture of shredded chicken, sliced vegetables, and French dressing.
“Let’s start digging in gỏi gà with bloated shrimp pancakes,” suggested Tom.
“Where did you buy the chicken?” asked Marjorie.
“From Albertson’s.”
“And you cooked it, didn’t you?” asked Ted.
“Yes, I did. Why?”
“I thought you bought it from a food-to-go restaurant,” replied the boy.
“The cooking was fast, only 15 minutes because it was done by a pressure cooker,” explained Tom. He then opened the saucepan of the boiling chicken broth. The aroma made them feel hungry. They eyed his gesture. He ladled the boiling broth into four big bowls of rice noodle and shredded chicken. He added some chopped green onion and cilantro. Finally he served chicken phở to Hương-Giang, Marjorie, Ted, and himself.
“Your chicken phở’s better than the one in the restaurant,” praised Marjorie.
“Because Uncle Tom cooked a special one for us,” explained their mother.
Hương-Giang’s children were full and satisfied. Tom had gained their heart.

“Mom, you’re the most beautiful woman this evening at your wedding party,” praised Marjorie.
“Thank you, my daughter.” Hương-Giang admired her, “You’re very lovely tonight as well. You’re prettier than me at your age.”
“Your fashionable gown and your hair style fit you, I can say.”
“I want you to be a pharmacist or a dentist, my dear,” Hương-Giang softly said, caressing her smooth, black hair.  “Where’s your brother?”
“He’s in the car with Uncle Trung’s children.”
Entering the house, Tom and Trung, her older brother, told Hương-Giang that the limousine was ready, waiting for her. It would take Hương-Giang and Tom, the bride and groom to the wedding hall. They leisurely walked on a red carpet, between tables of guests, all cheering and laughing in the most beautiful clothes. They stepped on a red-carpeted platform, surrounded by their siblings. Trung, Hương-Giang’s brother gave a short speech, presenting the bride and the groom to the audience. He then invited the wedding guests to enjoy the food in the live soft music. Some amateur singers dedicated love songs to the newly-weds.
“Tom,” blurted a colleague of his, “are you happier in marrying a single mom?”
“Crying bachelorettes need you to dry their tears,” chimed in another one.
Gales of laughter.
“That’s your duty, man,” Tom shot back.
“Single moms are sexier, right?”
“I don’t know. Maybe. Try once.”
A thunder of laughter.
They began dancing after the bride and the groom had cut the cake and opened a bottle of Champagne.
They got home, happy, but tired.

Hương-Giang, pressing her body against her husband’s stayed abed late Sunday morning, faintly resounding to her ears: the running water from the kitchen, the boiling water hissing for coffee, the clatter of computer keyboard from Ted’s room, the croaking of flying crows over the roof, and the rumbling of passing cars. She yarned, thinking that now she’s got a love, a nice and dutiful companion and a warm family with smart children. Suddenly she was suffocated by a smiling kiss. Both laughed.
“Mom, breakfast’s ready!” Marjorie called out. When Hương-Giang and Tom came to the dinning-room, the girl was setting the table, and the boy, pouring boiling water into two cups.

“Ted, Mom’s tired these days because of her big belly,” she had told her brother the night before. “We have to wake up early to make breakfast.”
“Fine,” he agreed, wanting to do something to please his mother.

 “Thanks, my dear,” Hương-Giang tenderly said, sitting down at the table. She put a teaspoon of Taster’s Choice instant coffee and condensed milk into the cups, and stirred mixing them: one cup for Tom and one for her.
“Thank you, Ted and Marjorie,” said Tom, smiling. He took hot bread out of the oven and put it into a small rattan basket on the table.
“Have your breakfast, my children,” said Hương-Giang. A pall of contentment flickering over her face, Tom noticed.
The children ate bread with ham and Laughing Cow cheese while the adults had bread with butter and giò chả, Vietnamese ham.
“What time’s your music class, Ted and Marjorie,” Tom asked.
“Eleven, Uncle,” replied Ted.
“Can’t you say Father, instead of Uncle?” Hương-Giang retorted.
Both kept silence.
“Do not rush, please,” Tom put in. “There’s no big difference between Father and Uncle.” Hương-Giang gave up, her head bent down, a slightly angry emotion suppressed. Her children made an excuse to their mother and bolted for their room. A remnant of roughness in the family happiness, she thought.

The summer’s hot weather has gone. Yesterday’s two-inch rain brought the mild autumn back to California. Hương-Giang’s family was sitting on the covered patio, looking at the bare backyard. They were enjoying longan and persimmon Ted had brought from Uncle Trung’s house.
“Longan’s juicy and persimmon, very sweet.” Hương-Giang appreciated, and then asked Ted, “How many longan and persimmon does Uncle Trung have?”
“Four longan and five persimmons,” Marjorie replied.
“Can we plant persimmon and longan in this backyard, Uncle?” asked Ted.
“Sure, why not?” said Tom. “First we dig holes, and then we install irrigation pipe with a timer.”
“I’m gonna dig holes,” volunteered Ted.
“We build mountains in miniature with a pond in which we can admire colored koi fish swimming,” added Marjorie.
“But roaming cats catch and eat fish,” said Hương-Giang.
“We cover the pond with chicken wire, don’t we?” replied Tom.
“We plant bonsai on those small mountains, right?” added Marjorie. “So, they look like the real ones.”
“I buy a strong pump to create a waterfall, as well,” chimed in Tom.
“That’d be wonderful,” Ted said.
“We’re starting next weekend,” concluded Tom. Hương-Giang glanced at her children, a pleasurable feeling sweeping through her soul. She had wanted a warm-hearted family for her children and for her. Was it a lasting dream? She pondered, "Man proposes and God disposes," that thinking consoled her.

“Close the door. Do not open it to anyone,” Tom woke Ted up and told him. “I take mom to hospital. Early morning I come back home.”
It was 2:00 a.m. Tom took Hương-Giang to the maternity ward. She was then wheeled into the ER.
At 5:00 a.m. a nurse came out and told Tom, “Congratulations! You’ve got a boy. They are in good condition, mother and child. You can come in to see them.”
“How much is his weight?” he asked.
“Almost 7 pounds.”
Holding her hands, Tom smiled broadly, “Thank you, Hương-Giang.” Next to her the boy was sleeping peacefully. He kissed his baby’s tiny hands. He was father now, the head of a family with a new responsibility. He was happy: the baby is his life product, its continuation, and his companion at the old age. There had been times he thought about his insecure future while the Vietnam War was still on. Could he survive to get married with children? Now, his child’s in front of him.
“What are you thinking about?” asked Hương-Giang.
“Oh, my dream’s come true. I’ve wanted a boy like me and I’ve got it.” He went on, “A name for him.” His joy was infectious. His wife shared it and said, “Do you have any name on your mind?”
“Henry, Peter, and Larry. It’s your choice, Hương-Giang.”
“Larry, what do you think?”
“Yes, Larry,” he agreed.
“The baby’s face looks like yours, especially the nose and the large ears,” Hương-Giang commented.
“But his mouth is like yours, Honey,” said Tom. “How do you feel now?”
“Fine, however still tired. I want to sleep.”
“Okay. I go back home to make sure that Ted and Marjorie come to see you before going to school.”
“But today’s Sunday.”
“I forgot. See you later.”

Since Tom and his mother left home, Ted could not go back to sleep. In any minute now, he would have a half-brother or a half-sister, a human being like him, but only half of it having the same blood and flesh as his. He felt confused. Did he have to love the baby? He thought he should because his mother gave birth to it although half of it did not come from his father; it came from Uncle Tom. But Uncle Tom loved mom and was very kind to him and Marjorie…
As usual Marjorie got up and boiled water to make coffee. Seeing Tom coming out of the room without her mom, she asked, “Where’s Mom?”
“You’ve got a little brother. Mom’s in hospital.”
“I must wake Ted up and we come to see Mom.”
“We stop by a phở restaurant, have breakfast, and buy a to-go phở for mom,” suggested Tom.
“Yes, Mom needs it, Uncle.”

“Roses for you, Mom,” said Marjorie, kissing her while Ted held Larry’s little hand, scrutinizing his features to find if his brother had something identical to him. He’s just come out of his mom’s womb where he and Marjorie had grown up for nine months more than a decade ago.
“Mom, how do you feel?” he tenderly asked.
“Fine. Thank you Ted and Marjorie. Now you’ve got a brother to take care of.”
“I will, Mom,” accepted Marjorie.
“He and I will play soccer,” joked Ted.
“All right, then.” All laughed.
“Eat some hot phở,” invited Tom, handing his wife the bowl.
“Thank you.” 

“Mom, that bird’s picking and eating our persimmon,” exclaimed Marjorie. Everyone looked at the bird savoring the red shining fruit, and raising its beak up time and again, satisfied. It was like the winning boxer lifted his hands up on the elevated boxing ring, his face out, blood-tainted, but radiant and ecstatic among the excited shouts and cheers.
“But I tested them yesterday,” said Ted. “None was soft.”
“Birds have a very sensitive sense of smell in order to survive,” explained Tom.
“And my brother Ted has a keen sense of eating,” put in Marjorie, smiling.
All laughed.
“And my sis has an acute trend of shopping,” retorted Ted. “She knows very well when, where, and which fashion goes on sale.”
A storm of laugh.
“We’re gonna wrap those fruits,” said Tom.
“I’m collecting all ads flyers,” said Ted.
“I’m looking for a roll of tape,” chimed in Marjorie.
“Let me go, Mom,” two-year old Larry struggled to get free from his mother’s hand. “I’m going wrapping fruit with Marjorie.”
“Hold on! Eat up your food before doing anything else,” Hương-Giang, their mother, barbecuing beef, pork, and chicken said. “It’ll get cold when you come back.”
Hương-Giang’s party was sitting at the covered patio on a mild weather Sunday of October. They had rehearsed some music lessons, the family band composed of Ted, Marjorie, their cousins and Loretta, Ted’s female classmate.
“Loretta, your plate’s empty. Would you like a piece of Korean steak?”
“Yes, please, ma’am,” accepted Loretta, a blonde-hair, lovely, and medium build twelfth grader.

Loretta, a Latina girl and Ted had been known each other for almost two years. First, Hương-Giang did not like her son’s relationship with another ethnic girl. She preferred a Vietnamese one. However Loretta was nice, polite, and smart. Her behavior did change Hương-Giang’s attitude towards the girl.
“Ted, tell me why you like Loretta,” she asked him one day. “I want you to choose a Vietnamese girl.”
“Mom, Loretta’s very intelligent and nice,” replied Ted. “Loretta and I have competed on every subject in class since I did not have any acquaintance with her.”
“You mean that you and Loretta were rivals on studies in class and now, friends.”
“Yeah, you’re right, Mom.”
“However, I do not want both of you go beyond the friendship,” Hương-Giang recommended. “I want you to have a profession before marriage.”
“I promise, Mom.”

Hương-Giang put a tasty Korean steak onto Loretta’s plate. “Thanks, Auntie,” she said.
“Honey, you haven’t eaten anything so far,” Tom said to his wife. He handed her a plate with a brown chicken thigh and a steaming potato. “Let me take over your work.”
She tenderly glanced at him. “Thank you, dear.”
She sat in a comfortable armchair, having a bite of tasty chicken. A sweet remembrance came to her mind—Ted’s father had offered her a barbecued chicken thigh one evening at a famous restaurant at Vũng Tàu Beach, Vietnam, in the fresh wind coming from the sea. It had been one of seven charming nights during her honeymoon. Now a second man repeated the same act with her in a different environment in a new country. A sad feeling flew by—where had he been buried? Like him, many re-educated prisoners had died and been buried somewhere in remote areas. Their earth tombs must have been weathered, worn out, and disappeared under tall weed and bushes. Their loved ones would never find them out…
Hương-Giang stood up and stepped on round red bricks with Larry to the large plastic pond. Seven four-inch red and white koi fish were swimming around the waterfall.
“They’re hungry, Mom,” said Larry. “I get their food.”
“No. You can’t do it,” interrupted his mother. “Let Dad do it. Stay here with me.” Larry got cross with her, yanking her hand down.
“Larry, look at that butterfly flying near the flower;” his mother asked, “Is it beautiful? What color is it?”
“It’s red, yellow, and white.”
“Good boy! …Now… how many flowers do you see?”
“One, two…seven, eight: eight flowers, Mom.”
“My Larry can count now,” she praised.
The dark gray miniature mountains, sparse with white roses, bonsai pines, and small bamboo bushes reminded her of Dalat, the 4,500-foot altitude city of falls, lakes and pine hills. A tinge of nostalgia… A new world was around her and she was pleased with it: A comfortable house in the middle of a large garden with fruit trees and a fish-pond—a resting corner for her family to relax on cool weekends.
Then flashed back on her mind the picture of her small two-room apartment she used to live in Saigon. Outside the steel door, always locked, was a small street. Her children had put up with playing, studying and sleeping in the same-only room. She had stayed home, doing housework, rearing, and educating her children. Day in, night out, she had lived in fear, anxiety on the likely-or-unlikely happenings she never wanted to her distant husband. In the wake of a hit-and-crashed medevac chopper written on the newspaper she had read the previous morning, she woke up in the middle of the night, groping for her husband while he was sleeping with her… She hove a sigh, chasing that black cloud out of her mind.

One day at four in the afternoon, the telephone on Tom’s desk rang. He picked it up and said, “Hello, Tom’s speaking.”
“Sir, this is Loretta. Be calm. Nothing’s serious.” Then slowly she said, “During a football game, Ted’s got a fall, hit by his opponent. His shoulder and leg got hurt. He’s in hospital.”
“Okay, my wife and I will come,” he replied.
Tom drove the car, suppressing his worry to surface as his wife was sobbing in the passenger seat. When they arrived at the hospital, Ted was in the X-ray room. They met Loretta, Ted’s PE teacher, and his football coach.
“Ted caught the ball and started running,” recounted the coach, “an opponent hit him by the side. The impact was so strong, bending him down; another opponent pushed him falling to the ground. He was struck by a double blow.” He then went on, “I hope nothing would be very serious.” Tom walked his wife to an armchair. “Relax, my dear,” he comforted, “everything will be okay.” Later on, the doctor showed them some negatives, saying, “The left clavicle is okay, the left femur is intact, so is the left tibia, but there’s a one-fourth-inch fissure on his left fibula. I am going to put a plaster cast on up to his knee. He stays in the hospital for three days. He then goes home.” Hương-Giang was relieved.
“Ted, where do you feel hurt?” Larry asked. “Let me see.”
“My leg… Easy, easy. It hurts me.”
“Poor Bro. I want to share your pain, but I don’t know how.”
“Thanks, Larry. I forget it when I hear you say you love me.”
“Get well soon, Bro. I can’t play soccer without you.”
“Don’t worry, Larry,” put in Marjorie. “Your Bro. forgets his suffering because of Loretta’s tender caresses.”
“Marjorie, stop teasing your Brother Ted,” said Hương-Giang, raising her voice.
“I like her teasing me, Mom,” responded Ted.
“Hương-Giang, take Marjorie and Larry home,” said Tom, “I stay here with Ted tonight. Loretta, go home. Your parents would be worried. Thank you and take care.”
“Relax and sleep, my son,” said Hương-Giang. “You get well soon.”
“Ted, sleep well.” jested Marjorie, “There’s no ghost in here, only pretty student nurses. But Loretta’s more beautiful, right?”
“Marjorie, stop talking that way, will you?” put in her mother. “Don’t you see your bro. in pain?” The young lady smiled as Loretta poked her at the ribs.
“Okay. I won’t be afraid of. Thank you, Sis.”
Three nights on end, Tom stayed with Ted in hospital. Some time at night, Ted woke up and he saw Tom laying on a cot or sitting on a chair, his head down on his bed, sleeping. He was extremely moved. He gently caressed Tom’s hair—he thought, “Tom did not father me; he’s just my step-father; he’s been taking good care of me from the day he loved my mom. I lost a father, but I have a dad.”

Every year, to the majority of Vietnamese Americans, the 30th of April was the death anniversary of one of their loved ones. Hương-Giang left her office earlier and came home. Her two children, Ted and Marjorie were ready, waiting for her at home to go to a Catholic church. They stopped by a florist’s shop to pick up a dozen of the best red roses.
“My Lord,” she prayed, “please, take my husband An-Đông’s soul to the Heaven with you. For he was a good Catholic, faithful, loving and respecting You. He did fulfill his duty toward his country, his family and me. Thank you, Virgin Mary, for having protected me and my children during our wonderful living in the United States.” She was then lost in her thought—that day a young officer came to her, a teller in a bank, to withdraw money. His face attracted her. She thought, “What a handsome young man!” However, she forgot him right away because she was busy with her customers. When she pulled her Honda motorbike out of the bank gate, she didn’t expect to run into that officer. Embarrassed with her thought, she tried to avoid him, but he called her name.
“What can I do for you, Sir?” she mumbled.
“Yes, I have some problem about my account. Can you help me?”
“Okay.”
“Can we come to a café for a convenient talk?”
“Sure.”  
“What would you like, coffee or smoothie or an ice-cream?”
“A durian smoothie for the lady and a coffee for me, please,” he said to a waitress. After a moment he went on, “How long have you worked in this bank?”
“Not too long. What’s the problem with your account?”
“Well, not too serious. Where does your father work?”
“He passed away three years ago,” she replied.
“And your mother?”
“She’s a government employee.” She felt embarrassed, knowing that he wanted to court her; so she said, “I’m sorry. I have to leave because you don’t have any problem about your account.”
“Just one more minute. I have a real big one.”
“So, tell me.”
“How about a lunch out at Majestic restaurant at noon this Saturday.”
“I’m busy then. Thank you and good bye,” she replied.
“Please come. I’ll wait for you. I really want to meet you.”

“Mom, what are you thinking about?” Ted asked.
“Let’s go home. It’s dark,” put in Marjorie.
“When you have time, please tell us about our father’s past. We get to know of him a bit.”
“Okay.”

 The winter was colder: a snowstorm slammed hard the North-Eastern states for many days. In Washington DC, the White House, and the Capitol had to shutdown, houses closed by a three-foot snow-wall. It was raining a week long—rainwater filling lakes, flooding drought-stricken Midwest areas, and causing mudslides, forcing mandatory evacuation of residents in Southern California. Black, leafless fruit trees stood gloomily on both sides of the 5 Freeway from San José down to Los Angeles. Senior Americans got weaker, disturbed by arthritis pain night and day. Newspapers carried lots of obituary notices and thanks notes.
Then came the spring time with azure sky, fresh wind, mild sunny days, and sweet-moonlit nights. Fresh flower buds attracted humming bees and gusts of wind spread white petals of cherry flowers everywhere, whitening the ground. The peach blossom or the green of grape leaves charmed the passengers’ eyes on the 99 Freeway: a new life has dawned.
Hương-Giang’s family was enjoying the newly released DVD “Journey to Freedom” from the Asia Entertainment, Inc. The show related the episode of South Vietnamese escaping the Vietcong, the Vietnamese Communists, capturing Saigon: emotional songs following clips of final battles on the outskirts of Saigon or chaotic, panic-stricken crowds in front of the American Embassy in Saigon. Hương-Giang’s and Tom’s eyes got filled with tears running down on their cheeks. Ted and Marjorie felt extremely sad with the pictures that they were hastily running to their uncle’s chopper standing on the tarmac, their mom carrying Marjorie on the back, her right hand firmly holding Ted’s left hand and her left hand, a bag of clothing.  Their uncle was waiting for them near his chopper-in-working amidst fearful people and rocket explosions.
“At that time Marjorie and I were very young,” Ted told his wife, Loretta, “I did not know why we had to flee Vietnam and where to go to. We were afraid by contagious panic.” They got married, Ted and Loretta, a few months ago after they had graduated as doctors of pharmacy.

Ted took a tender look at his mother, holding her hand: she got older, some gray hair on her head and wrinkles on her outer canthi…
“What’s the matter with you, Ted?” she asked.
“I love you, Mom.”
She gazed at him, “I love you, too, Son,” thinking that he’s grown up and married: a new family, a new destiny. Soon they’d fly away…
“You’re right, Ted,” added Marjorie. “I was very scared and everyone else was frightened, as well.”
“I do not have any memory about the war and the evacuation,” calmly said Larry.
“Well, you were born in the U.S, long after the war had been over,” Tom said. “Later, when you’re a college student, you should read the Vietnam War books to know how your mother and I had suffered from that war.”
“Sure, I will, Dad.”
“Our family, like other Vietnamese American families,” Hương-Giang put in, “has three generations, three different experiences, and understanding of Vietnam’s history.
“Unwise decisions so far,” concluded Tom, “after the World War II, Japan and Europe prospered; after the Korea War, the South Korea becomes a well-developed country; but after the Vietnam War, the Americans’ sacrifice has not eventually brought anything good to the Vietnamese people.”
Hương-Giang and Tom sighed.
“I will choose the teaching career,” asserted Larry. “I will rewrite the history of the Vietnam War from the viewpoint of a South Vietnamese.”
“That’ll be a good job,” said Tom.
“Marjorie and I will support you,” affirmed Ted.

Two years later.
Hương-Giang’s family had changed the form. Ted and Loretta had bought a house and moved out. Marjorie graduated from a dentistry school and Larry was going to enter a university. At the family reception on the day of Marjorie’s graduation, Larry opened her diploma and read, “Marjorie Ngô.” He was surprised, asking, “Ted, what’s your last name?”
Ted did not answer. Hương-Giang and Tom got the problem right away.
“Don’t be upset, Larry,” softly his father explained. “My last name’s Trần. So is yours. I passionately and tenderly love your mom and married her. I love Ted and Marjorie as well. And the three of you love each other for almost twenty years. The three of you love your mom and me, right? There’s no difference between us, only the last names.” Uncomfortable, Larry left.
Hương-Giang perceived Larry’s light frustration on his face: No one had told him so far that he had a different father, that his blood was not totally the same as Ted’s and Marjorie’s one, and so, there was a gap between their characters, and their thinking.
“My dear, we made a mistake,” Tom comforted his wife, “however, not very important one. We should have mentioned Ted’s and Marjorie’s father’s death more often; so Larry would be accustomed to the fact that they have different fathers.”
“You’re right,” Hương-Giang acquiesced. “Larry’s smart. He will understand and forget this uneasy situation because they love each other very much.”
“I hope so,” Tom said, “now that each one has more work to take care of, they’ll soon forget that little uncomfortable feeling.”
In the middle of the night, Hương-Giang woke up. Remembering Ted’s and Marjorie’s graduations, she felt very pleased. She accomplished her duty towards her first husband, An-Đông: Ted and Marjorie got good professions.